Memory, Abridged or Maybe Unabridged
Memory: we are walking through the park. It has just snowed. If I follow you for much longer, I will be late to my next class. You are silent. I’m sure I’ve done something wrong. You assure me I haven’t. You blink away my tears.
Memory: we are sitting in my living room. I am on the couch, curled up into a ball. You sit across from me, army green jacket, blue jeans, legs extended too wide for the chair, feet planted firmly on the ground, right hand in the air, fingers pointing. You’re saying everything wrong with me.
Caring: I laugh hysterically, I grin until I sob. Scream at you to get out. You pick the other option. Hold me and tell me I’m beautiful.
WHERE AM I
Memory: we are lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling. You have your shirt off, voice relaxed, picture of apathy though you are anything but. You’re listing everything wrong with me.
Memory: we are standing in the back stairwell of your building. We are screaming. How could you. It doesn’t matter. Passive aggressive words. I’m trying. Throw it under the rug. It didn’t mean anything. This means something. No. Listen to me. Listen to me. Listen. Listen. Listen. Listen. Listen. Listen.
You’re not listening.
Caring: I attack. Fists come into contact with the plaster and paint on the wall. What. Will. Make. You. Listen. Your strong arms circle around my wrists and slowly we collapse to the ground. Shhh. This is our struggle.
We make love and you are beautiful you are beautiful you are beautiful.
HOW DO I GET OUT OF HERE
Memory: I am trying to forget.
Memory: I am throwing you away.
Memory: Help me.
Memory: I don’t care.
NO ONE EVER STOPS TO THINK THAT
MAYBE GOD DOES NOT BELIEVE IN YOU
Memory: I wake up and roll over to see him in bed, next to me. This should not have happened, but it’s all right. There is nothing going on. Any more. His skin is like the sun. I want to touch it. Can we glow together, forever? Maybe. Not now. Some day, again.
Memory: As I leave you, he invites me over for drinks. I accept. I know what I’m getting into.
We start out sitting on the floor, sipping cheap vodka out of red plastic cups. Typical. He moves up to his bed. Says, come here. I do. Puts his arms around me. I’m like, this feels right. Our mouths meet. Oh no. Can I keep up my boundaries? There’s a certain point I cannot go past. Says, you know what I want. There goes the belt buckle.
Stumble away to sleep. Wake up the next morning. I don’t regret anything. I feel much better.
I JUST WANTED TO BE HAPPY ‘CAUSE I’M BEST WHEN I’M IN LOVE
AND I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU
Memory: on Valentine’s Day you act like a total fucking idiot.
Not caring: I do nothing. We have sex. I leave afterward.
Memory: we don’t speak for the entire weekend. This happens twice.
Not caring: I go to a concert. A party. I get drunk. I kiss a girl. You’ll never know about the details. I feel much better.
THREE – TWO – ONE –
Memory: Nothing.
Memory: Is that all?
Memory: Silence.
Subtext: You cold-hearted bitch.
Memory: Listen to me.
Memory: You’re not listening to me.
Subtext: I will tell stories about all the ways you hurt me.
Edit: deep down, you know all of that is bullshit. I’m not perfect but at least I tried to not be a complete and utter sociopath.
Memory: Freedom. Walking down the hallway and out of the building.
Subtext: I should feel better than I do.
WAKE ME UP WHEN IT’S ALL OVER
Memory: I will leave, I will come back, and maybe I won’t be so fucking angry at you any more.
AND THEN THERE WERE NONE